


Justice for Glory's Sake

by grand_inquisition



Category: Persona 4
Genre: 2nd Person, Accomplice Ending, Accomplice Ending (Persona 4), Emotional, Except Yosuke, Gen, M/M, Manipulation, Partner, Plotting, Second Person, Shadows - Freeform, Social Links, because partners, implied adachi/souji, implied souji/yosuke, investigation team are more like weapons to souji than friends, persona - Freeform, secrecy, souji has got a plan, this is kinda how i played the game, tohru adachi - Freeform, trying to soften the blow of the accomplice ending after puking as a result of hearing adachis laugh, tv world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 03:55:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10936467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grand_inquisition/pseuds/grand_inquisition
Summary: And him, he'd always lusted after perfection. He had told you that. It's why he looks at you now with such hatred, lurking behind the delight of breaking something everyone thought to be unbreakable. You had given up all he ever wanted. In his eyes you are disgraceful, childish, ungrateful.It is his weakness. You only know it is there because you know how to look.~OR: a desperate attempt to make myself feel better after I failed to stomach the horror that was the accomplice ending.





	Justice for Glory's Sake

**Author's Note:**

> This is acting as post-accomplice ending therapy for myself, seeing as I thought it would be a good idea at the time to play the game in that way. Now, full of crippling regret, I've written this to give the protagonist an accomplice ending he seems to better fit, based on my own style of gameplay.  
> Please enjoy!

~

You can tell by the tone of his voice — he lets you know by the tone of his voice — that you’ve got it exactly right.

It’s when your selfishness took over.

From then, you knew it was either kill or be killed. Burn the letter, or take his bullet through your skull. There was a lingering voice at the back of your mind asking, crooning to you softly that he didn't have the courage to pull the trigger. He couldn’t kill — not like that — he’d rather twist the blame, push you in, send you to the shadows.

Shadows, you could deal with. That look on his face, growing more and more unmasked by the second, you could not.

The ashes flitter tauntingly from the paper, rising up, up, clinging to the ceiling desperately. It burns silently, the only thing you can hear is his ragged, delighted breathing, cutting through the air and straight into your heart.

You look up, eyes heavy and smoky in your sockets, he’s asking you why you did it, barely able to believe what he is seeing. The ashes on the roof seem to challenge your judgement for a moment, taking on the faces of everyone you have come to know so well. You can see each one of them so clearly. Calling you _partner_. Standing up to the group of bullies. Handing that pink knit to the little boy.

Now he is laughing, and your tears freeze in place.

He is in the perfect position, he really is. And you know it, you have appreciated his mastery since your earliest suspicions. The rookie detective, leaking information to you at the most strategic of times, always there when he needed to be. Now he is here, and so are you. He’s smug and in control, and you amaze at the extent of his act. Your breathing is rickety and his voice, though breathy and quiet, crushes you under a taunting weight, angering your diminishing dignity and pride. He can hardly believe it and he lets you in on his surprise. Lets you know the extent of the mistake you have made. And you know it. You do.

You were perfect until you put the lighter to the paper. You can acknowledge that quietly to yourself with ease. Perfect friend, perfect worker, perfect student, perfect fighter. And him, he’d always lusted after perfection. He had told you that. It was why he looks at you now with such hatred, lurking behind the primary delight of breaking something everyone thought to be unbreakable. You had given up all he had ever wanted. In his eyes you are disgraceful, childish, ungrateful.

It is his weakness. You only know it is there because you know how to look.

You hardly listen to what he is saying. Somehow his voice seems to sound like Yosuke’s, you know it's just a trick of the mind but it burns you. Maybe it’s because you hear that name, one you thought only Yosuke could ever be allowed to call you by. He’s implying it’s time for you to go, and you do, you get out, your chest constricting. That word, crossing his lips, you’re not sure whether it fills you with the grief of what you have given up, or with a strange, floaty pleasure, knowing what the future holds.

One thing is for certain. One way or another, you know you’ll never be able to escape Inaba now.

You stand on the path, not even able to see the other side of the street through the haze. It seems to envelop upon itself, as if it has a mind of its own, engaging in a purposeful dance that seeks to blind your every vision. You cannot see the sign reading 'Inaba Police Department', nor the cracks in the pavement beneath your feet.

Your phone buzzes. It’s from him, a smiley face. You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

_'Your decision was monstrous, but there can be no turning back now…'_

It’s Igor’s voice, you think.

 

~

 

You know he is standing there, looking at the approaching train. You can barely see outside, the yellow smog is too thick through the window, scratched with graffiti, but you know it’s him. The askew tie, the cheap, scuffled suit, the scraggly hair. You look at him as you approach the crossing, unflinching, and you know he’s looking right back at you. It feels like a lifetime since you were with him at the police station yesterday, and somehow he seems less threatening as he did then. You look at the phone in your hands, it feels like ice. What if you don’t answer one of his calls? Would he turn you in?

Surely.

You pause, looking at the phone but not seeing anything but his face from yesterday, etched into your memory like a nightmarish engraving. But was he so bad, really? He was out of control then, high on his own ecstasy. Understandable, you had played right into the palm of his hand. You, the hero, had abandoned everything for him. But so what if he turned you in? What did he have to go off? He had turned off the CCTV yesterday, obviously, so not to expose the fact he never handed the letter in to forensics. He was vouching against your school friends, your work friends, your _partner_ , your uncle: the chief detective.

Their love would save you, if it came to that.

You understand him fully now, especially the fear he has of his own inadequacy. Despite his deception, you only needed to know the truth for him to become remarkably easy to read. If he turned you in, all you needed to do was revert the blame onto him, and Naoto would do the rest. Her intelligence... _and her impartiality to her only-ever friends..._ was exceedingly useful in that way.

Hopefully it need not reach that point, however. You have mastered the world beyond the television, gained an understanding of its workings. You remember saying your goodbyes yesterday, passing by the service station. A single touch from that woman as you bought a snack for today’s trip made you lightheaded, made you understand it all. Her eyes were full of purpose, you know she knew what you did. She did not say a word, you took it as approval. That is the path she wanted you to take. A pity. She seemed to have passed some knowledge onto you through her touch, unlocked your understanding of how to manipulate the TV world. It was as if the knowledge had always been there, just in some unobtainable corner of your mind. As a reward for burning that letter. If only she knew…

You knew from then that she was going to be an obstacle, _the_ obstacle, but just another all the same. To be taken down, with the greatest weapon she had ever unknowingly granted you.

But that does not matter, as the train speeds closer and closer to the tunnel, gaining momentum. There is nothing you can do about her — or him — right now. You opt to stare him down, make him realise he is not as in control as he believes. You hope he rings you soon, you do, because then you will enter the TV together and it will be only you and him, just like you have envisioned it for so long. It is a beautiful thought, quite literally a glorious one, and you feel it manifest from a simple idea into an obsession as you enter the tunnel, gripping the phone tight in your hand.

~

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading guys, rock on :)


End file.
